Pudd: A Beautiful Beginning
by keithgardenerxx
Summary: This is a long one, chaptered, and it's also my first. Reviews welcome. I'm sorry if I don't update enough, it's my exam year. It's basically Harry and Dougie joining the band and becoming friends, and maybe more...Sorry, I know I take ages to update, but I don't want to give you a crappy chapter as filler, but thanks so much for your lovely reviews! More please!
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Harry's POV

Sometimes I wonder what my life would have been like if I never joined Mcfly. Maybe I'd have kept on with cricket, maybe I'd have gotten a nine to five job in some office somewhere in England, married young and had kids. Whatever I'd be doing right now, I wouldn't swap for the world. As I looked out at the sea of fans, cameras flashing, girls screaming, chanting our names, and my three best friends in the world beside me, I felt like the luckiest guy in the world.

Danny was hyping up the crowd, they roared back at him like this was the last day of their lives. And when we started to play, I felt the music vibrating through me as I pounded the drums, my hands knew exactly what to do, and it was so easy, so effortless. I was born for this, made for the music.

I grinned from ear to ear, sweating as I threw my whole body into drumming, my head nodding and arms swinging. This was the high that drug addicts dreamed of, and I savoured every second of it. I heard Danny's rough, powerful tones, and Tom's silky harmonies. Dougie's bass could be heard above it all, the notes soaring through the stadium like fireworks. Every second was like heaven, despite the heat and my aching arms, and sweat dripping into my eyes and burning. I lived every minute on that stage as if it was my last, the ecstasy of performing consuming my thoughts. It was everything anyone could wish for.

Later, in the tour bus, I lay back on one of the sprawling sofas and relived it all again. We were silent, the four of us, savouring the afterglow of a show. Dougie cracked open four ice cold beers, and we drank them gratefully. Finally, Tom broke the silence.

"Wow." He breathed.

"I know," I grinned stupidly, "It never gets old, does it?" The three of them shook their heads in unison. I'd never been so happy in my life.

I'm seventeen years old again, standing in a crowded waiting room. There's a queue of kids, just like me, clutching their drumsticks in their hands. Some look older than me, some younger. I have no idea what the guy in the calf length leather jacket and Mohawk is doing here. Nor the one in the suit, but mainly, they all look like me. I run my hands through my hair, before remembering I'd carefully gelled it into spikes this morning. Never mind, I don't have a hope anyway. There must be about eighty other kids in the room, and I've only been drumming for a year. What am I doing here?

Then, some people come through the revolving door. There's a guy in his twenties, slick black hair and a business-like suit. A few more suits, they all look the same. Then two kids, just like me. One's got bleached blonde hair, and he's wearing a t-shirt that's a little too big for him, the other has curly brown hair, and he's looking at the floor. Why does he look scared? He's already in the band! The one with blonde hair is looking around interestedly, eyeing up potential drummers. They walk right past me, and I can smell the leather of the men's briefcases. The curly-haired one looks up and looks away again, not before he's met my eye. He smiles a bit, and I like the way he doesn't look like a popstar. He just looks like a normal kid. They disappear through the double doors at the other side of the room, and one by one, kids are called into the room by a woman with a headset and clipboard. Some come out grinning, some come out looking dejected, some even crying.

"Harold Judd." I take a deep breath, and walk up to those doors. It feels like a very long way. The woman pats my shoulder kindly, and shows me into the room. The two guys from earlier are there, as well as the bloke in his twenties. Another man sits beside the curly haired kid, who's looking up at me, and he smiles a bit. The man in the suit asks me my name, and what I'm going to play for them. I tell him, and he grins. He must like the song! The two kids are grinning at each other too.

"Whenever you're ready." The man says in a cool, professional voice. I sit down at the drums, my heart pounding. My mouth is dry and I feel like I'm going to be sick. Then I start to play. My hands fly like they never have before, and I am totally in the moment. The song doesn't seem to last long enough, and when I put my drumsticks down, I'm totally calm.

"That was brilliant mate!" The curly haired kid enthuses in a heavy Northern accent, smiling widely.

"Thanks." I tell him, grinning myself.

"Thank you very much. If you'd like to wait outside again." The suited man says, again in his cool tone, but his eyes were sparkling. I leave the room, high on their smiles. They looked interested in me; maybe I've got a chance after all! More kids go into the room, more leave. It doesn't seem long before the woman with the headset goes into the room, for quite a long time. She comes out again, a piece of paper in her hand, and starts reading off a list of names. _HAROLD JUDD._ Did she really say that? Did I imagine it? She did, she's beckoning to me. Only four others are there. The rest leave, some looking angry, others looking disappointed, but us five stay.

"Paul, you go in first. They're going to ask you to play again, ask you a bit more about yourself, and then they'll make their decision, okay?" She pushes a kid with black spiky hair into the room. The rest of us wait with baited breath, exchanging tight smiles, tapping our hands our thighs in practice. He emerges, and the next kid is sent in, then the next, and the next. I'm last to go in. The curly haired kid grins again, he must like me. The blonde one is smiling too, not as excited, but definitely interested.

"So you're Harold, right?" He asks. He doesn't have much of an accent.

"Yeah, but everyone calls me Harry." I tell him.

"How long have you been playing drums Harry?" The suited man asks, shuffling bits of paper.

"A year." Their eyes pop open, and the blonde one is smiling more enthusiastically now.

"And how old are you?" The suit asks.

"I'm seventeen." I tell him. Is that old enough, I wonder. Must be, the curly haired kids looks a bit younger than seventeen.

"Okay Harry, can you play again for us, the same song please." I sit down at the drums again, and that weird feeling of calm settles over me. I play again, just enjoying the rhythm of the drums, hearing them crash like waves in the ocean. When I'm finished, I stand up, and the two kids are smiling appreciatively.

"Thanks Harry, we won't have you waiting much longer, we'll just have a quick chat, and then you'll hear the verdict, okay?" The suit says, a little warmth in his voice now. I nod, and leave the room again. They're in there for what feels like forever, but in reality is only a few minutes. Then on the woman's instructions, we all go in together.

"Right guys. Firstly, I want to say that you're all brilliant drummers. The best we've seen today. I'd like to congratulate you all on your skill, and it's unfortunate that we can't have you all…" I zone out, and the man continues like this for a really, really long time. This guy can talk! After what seems like an age, he says.

"But we can only have one drummer, and after a lot of discussion, we've decided that we'd like Harry Judd to be in the band. To the rest of you, I'm very sorry." He finally finishes. Oh my God. Oh my GOD. Am I really going to be in a band? A proper one? I feel dizzy. I'm vaguely aware of the rest of them leaving the room.

"Congratulations Harry!" The curly haired one says, he gets up and comes over to me, practically bouncing up and down with excitement. "This is going to be great, I knew you were the right one, and then you said you've only been playing for a year! That's really impressive mate! We've got a band house, and you get to come and live with us, and it's SO cool! We just need a bassist, and then we can get going as a proper band!" He's grinning all over his face, and the blonde joins him.

"I don't believe it." I mumble, swaying a bit.

"Danny, leave him alone, he's probably a bit shell shocked. Harry, my name's Tom Fletcher, and this is Danny Jones. That's Matthew Fletcher, no relation, but we call him Fletch. He's our manager, and so is Richard." He points to the youngish guy, then the suit. "Our band house is in London, and we already live there, it's pretty awesome. Where are you from?"

"Cambridge." I murmur, it was still sinking in. My life was going to change forever.

"Cool, I'm from London, Danny's from Bolton, in case you hadn't guessed." He said, elbowing Danny, who laughed.

"Will your parents be all right about this, you leaving school and coming to live in London?" Danny asked. He was so energetic, like a puppy.

"They'll have to be. I'm seventeen now, so I don't think they can stop me." I say. This is real. I'm leaving school, I'm going to live in London with Tom and Danny, my bandmates. Euphoria set in, and I grinned at the two of them. My bandmates. I already really liked them both.

"Do you play any sports Harry?" Danny wants to know.

"Yeah, I love cricket, and I play football and rugby as well, you?"

"Football. Tom plays football too, and a bit of cricket, don't you mate?"

"Yep. We've already got goalposts set up at the house. You can move in as soon as you can, and you can come and see it tomorrow if you want. We'd love to show you around, it's ace." Tom enthused, playfully punching my shoulder.

What the fuck is happening? Am I, Harry Judd, going to live in a massive house with my two new friends Danny and Tom, and make my living doing what I love? No way. No WAY.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Dougie's POV

Oh fuck. Oh FUCK. What am I doing here? I've only been playing bass for a couple of months, and there are dudes here who are practising crazy bass riffs that look like they took years to perfect. My mum keeps saying encouraging things, but I can tell even she looks apprehensive as she takes it all these really serious bassists.

"I'm going to be sick." I mumble, looking at the floor. She looks at my face once, and then hurries me over to a bin, where I puke up my breakfast, sweating with nerves. At that moment, the doors open, and five people walk in. There's a young guy in a suit, about twenty, with black hair and a business like expression, an older guy, with sort of nondescript features. Then, the kids who must be in the band. Older than me obviously, but still kids. There's a guy with blonde hair and brown eyes, wearing a Beatles t-shirt and baggy jeans. Then a kid with curly hair and a nose that looks as if it might have been broken once, but you couldn't be sure, and freckles on his face and arms. Last, a really good-looking guy, with shaggy brown hair and very blue eyes, who's a littler taller than the others. He looks strong, and his polo shirt sleeves are tight on his biceps. His skin is oddly pale, contrasting intriguingly with his dark hair. He looks at me, and shock flits across his handsome features. I blush a deep red, and let go of the bin, wiping my mouth. Oh God. What's he going to think of me now? They, I mean. They disappear through another door. My mum ushers me back to my seat, and I sit there, humiliated, thinking about that guy with the shaggy hair. He saw me THROW UP, for God's sake. I shouldn't be here. Awkward, scrawny fifteen year olds who've only been playing bass for two months do not get into cool bands, with cool kids who look at least eighteen. Fact.

My name is called, and I float over to the doors on legs that feel as if they're made of cotton wool. A woman in a blue shirt and headset is there, and she looks at me doubtfully.

"You okay?" I nod, and she points me through another set of double doors. As I enter, that guy with the piercing blue eyes looks up, and my heart starts to pound, for no good reason. My mouth gets dry and my palms sweat.

"Are you okay now?" He asks, directly. There's no trace of fear in his deep, posh accent. I nod my head vigorously.

"What's your name, please?" The young guy in the suit asks me.

"Doug-Dougie." I croak, sounding so pathetic I'm surprised they didn't laugh in my face.

"Dougie…?" He asks, and I blush, feeling stupid for not having realised he'd need both names.

"Poynter." My voice breaks slightly at the end, and I blush even more deeply. I really want to be sick again, but I can't let that happen. I lock my jaw and breathe deeply through my nose.

"Okay Dougie, the floor is yours!" The guy smiles, and I start to play. I try to forget their eyes on me, and the sick feeling in my stomach, and watch my fingers fly up and down the fret board, not even thinking about it. I doubt I CAN think about it, because my mind is totally blank. It's a good thing my fingers know what they're doing.

When I finish the song, the one with the very blue eyes is staring at me, and for a moment, I don't quite know why, but I'm speechless. He's very good looking. His hair is wavy and unruly, and though he's probably not THAT much older than me, stubble lines his strong jaw, which he's rubbing thoughtfully, with long graceful fingers.

"That was brilliant." He tells me sincerely, frowning in that way that means someone really believes what they're saying. I blush, AGAIN, and notice that the young guy in the suit looks vaguely irritated, and I wonder why. Maybe he's not supposed to give me feedback?

"Thank you Dougie, if you could just wait outside again." He says briskly, but he doesn't look annoyed at me, he actually looks quite interested. My heart leaps, and the sick feeling lessens slightly. As I leave, I can hear that clear, assured voice again, low this time, and imagine the good looking guy, his eyes as he says;

"I really liked him." He did?! Oh my God.

I wait outside and deflect all of Mum's questions about how it went with noncommittal jerks of the head, and sit with my head bent, a hundred thoughts racing through my head. I don't understand why that guy with the blue eyes won't leave my mind. He's really good looking, but so were the other two. There isn't much different about him. He looks older, stronger, and he has some kind of authority when he speaks that makes me feel a bit uneasy and I don't understand why. I'm definitely straight, I've had girlfriends and I-you-know-what when I'm thinking about girls and stuff. I'm not GAY. That's just stupid, of course I'm not. But why did that guy make me feel differently from the others? It was just his eyes, I decide. They're just unsettling, because they're so blue.

Mum brushes her fingers though my fringe, pulling to the side, out of my eyes. I shake it back in them again, because I don't like people seeing my eyes. Without my fringe, they look small and scared, and I look very young. Sometimes it's better to hide, because then you don't get hurt.

"Darren Hitchings, Leo Gerant, Martin Caste, Douglas Poynter, Richard Wilkins, come with me. The rest of you, thank you for your time, you have unfortunately not made the band." My mouth falls open as I stare at the angel in the blue t-shirt and headset who has just said my name. My mum gestures at me to go, her eyes sparkling. I stand up, and stumble towards her, along with four others, all better looking than me, taller, more athletic. Damn, I don't have a hope. We all go in, and play again. I try to keep calm and play for them, but I can feel that guy's blue eyes hot on my face as I do. Everything goes a little bit blurry, when we all get called back in again. The guy in the suit talks, for a REALLY long time.

And then he says my name. And the rest of them leave. The band stand up, smiling, and come over to me.

"Hey Dougie! Welcome to Mcfly!" The blonde one grins at me, and I notice his eyes are very soft, and his smile is genuine. He claps me on the back. I try to nod and smile, but there's a ringing noise in my ears.

"Hey, are you okay?" The one with curly brown hair says in a thick Northern accent, and I nod weakly.

"I'm so glad we all chose you. I could tell you were right for the band thee first time you played. We're going to enjoy working with you. You know we've got a band house? You'll need to move to London. Where do you live now?" The guy with the blue eyes says sincerely.

"Um, Essex." I mumble, stumbling over the words.

"Cool, your parents are okay with this?" I nod again.

"Hey, we haven't introduced ourselves! I'm Tom Fletcher, this is Danny Jones, that's Harry Judd and the guy in the suit is our manager Fletch." The blonde one points to each of them in turn, first at himself, then the curly haired Northener, then the blue-eyed guy, and lastly the guy that talked a lot, now on the phone. Harry, he was called. Harry Judd.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Harry's POV

I'm so glad we picked Dougie for the band! He's perfect, he looks just right; floppy blonde fringe, wide blue eyes, skinny and graceful. When he was playing I couldn't look away from him, he was mesmerising. He'll be arriving soon. I live at the band house in London now, with Danny and Tom, and they were right, it's ACE. There's no adults to tell us to eat our vegetables, there's no school, no homework, just jamming with my two new best friends. They're even nicer than they seemed at first at the audition; Danny's teaching me how to play guitar and Tom's lent me his Beatles Greatest Hits album, he promised me I'd love it, and he was right! They're amazing, I wish we were as good as them. Well, Danny and Tom pretty much are! Danny plays guitar brilliantly and when he sings he sounds like a real rockstar, and Tom's just as good. I met Tom's mum too, she was here when I first arrived and she helped me and the guys get all my stuff organised, and she gave me a hug. My mum never really hugs me, I'm so jealous of Tom's. She gave me her number and told her to phone her if anything went wrong because "I know my Tom never thinks to phone!"

I can hear the door opening downstairs, and Danny and Tom's voices; Dougie must be here! Oh shit, I'm not even dressed, just jeans and all my tops are in the wash. Never mind, he said it was going to be just him. I spring up off the bed and run downstairs.

"Hey Dougie! You're early mate!" I grin, hugging him. It feels oddly natural; like he's my little brother. He blushes, and stammers;

"Hi Harry."

"Sorry I'm not dressed mate, but it's just you right?" I look around and there's no one there.

"Yep, just me, my mum's working. Fletch dropped me off, and Mum's going to bring the rest of my stuff at the weekend." He's looking at the floor, and I'm little bit confused. Why does he look so uncomfortable? Maybe he's just shy; hell, he was so nervous at the audition that he threw up, moving into a house with three strangers is obviously going to be hard. And he just had a two hour car journey with Fletch, I remind myself.

"That's your stuff yeah? I'll put it in your room, you go and get a cup of tea and whatever." I say, picking up his bags, which are surprisingly light, except for one, which weighs a ton, though it's the smallest. He nods.

"Thanks Harry." I shrug, and bound up the stairs, bags in tow. His room is the smallest, since he's the last here, but he's easily got the best view. All of London as his back garden. I place his things on his bed, and then head into Danny's room to put on one of his t-shirts, he's always nicking mine. Once fully clothed, I run back downstairs, and Dougie, Tom and Danny are sitting in the kitchen drinking tea. Tom and Danny know by now that I loathe and despise tea and coffee.

I sit down across from Danny, and start scrutinising Dougie. His sandy blonde hair falls into his eyes with the kind of easy grace that mine never will, and he's toying absently with his mug of tea, long fingers tracing patterns on the side. He's wearing a Blink 182 t-shirt, with a few wristbands on his arms, and baggy jeans. He looks cool, like he thought about what he was going to wear for a long time, but I know he probably didn't. He doesn't seem like the type of guy to worry about his clothes.

"So, Dougie, your room is at the back next to Harry's, but if anything's wrong you should probably tell Tom. Tom is the designated big brother. Of course if it's serious you want Fletch though." Danny is telling Dougie, smiling all over his face. He likes Dougie too.

"Oi, I'm sensible and big brotherly!" I cry, putting on a mock-hurt expression, and Danny punches me in the arm playfully.

"Yeah, if you've got girl trouble, Harry's the man." He snickers. I huff and pour myself a mug of hot water with a slice of the lemon that I keep in the fridge.

"Oh and he drinks hot water with lemon in it. He's seriously weird." Danny points out, and I give him the finger.

"So do I. It's good for you ain't it?" Dougie says, and I turn round, shocked. No one else I've ever met drinks this.

"Did I tell you I always liked you?" I say, laughing. "Want a cup?"

"Nah, I've got tea. Thanks though." He replies.

"Well, we've got our first rehearsal tomorrow Dougie." Tom says, his eyes shining. That guy REALLY loves music. He pretty much writes songs and plays guitar and piano all day. He's seriously cool, and everything he writes sounds like a number one hit. Dougie grins, and I notice the way his blue eyes almost disappear into upside down crescent shapes when he smiles, and his mouth forms a perfect little semicircle.

"You wouldn't believe how good that sounds out loud." He says quietly, his whole face lit up. HeHH

"I know." Tom grins back, and they share a little moment of appreciation.

"Well, I think we'd better give him the guided tour, before he and Tom start talking about music, because if I know Tom, that WILL be an all day conversation." Danny chuckles, looking me. I nod enthusiastically, and Dougie drains his tea.

"Right then, where to first?" I grab his wrist and start towing him upstairs, Danny and Tom following.

"Is that my t-shirt?" Danny questions.

"Yeah, mine are all in the wash, or in your room somewhere." I moan.

"Might want to try picking a baggy one next time, that t-shirt's tight on ME. You're bursting out of it." He laughs, and I look down and notice he's right. It strains over my arms and chest, and it ends just before my boxers begin, so you can see my hipbones and a thin sliver of my stomach beneath the hem. I tug it down, before shaking my head and pulling Dougie into his room.

"This is yours." I announce, gesturing to his stuff on the bed.

"Seriously? It's HUGE!" He says, mouth open wide.

"Nah, it's the smallest I'm afraid. But you've got the best view." I sweep my arm at the window like an art critic, and Dougie's eyes widen, before his mouth stretches into a huge smile.

"It's amazing. How the fuck did I manage to get here?" He wonders aloud.

"Unbelievable bass skills mate, and not acting like an arse at auditions. Plus, you look like a member of a boyband, instead of some goth weirdo." Danny tells him, elbowing Tom playfully. He rolled his eyes.

"Okay, that whole "Tom used to be goth" thing is getting REALLY old you know." He sighs. I snort, imagining him with black hair and eyeliner, and Dougie joins in. I can just tell, he's too perfect for this band. I can't wait to rehearse with him.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4-Dougie's POV

God, what a day. I came in, with all my bags and was met by a shirtless Harry, wet hair sticking up all around his face. He was less guarded, and he hugged me right away. I spent the rest of the day being shown around by my new band mates (I LOVE saying that) and playing bass with Tom and Danny. Harry's new drum kit is at the studio, and his home kit isn't getting delivered until tomorrow, so he just watched. It's a little uncomfortable being around him all the time, and I don't know why, because he's SO nice and welcoming and everything. But he's intense. When he looks at you, it's like you're the only thing in his world, and nothing else matters. It's like he sees into your soul.

I'm lying on my new bed, in my new room. It's a double bed, which is awesome, and my room is seriously huge. It's like three of my old rooms at home. It's a little weird, the walls are all blank because all my posters are at home, and it doesn't smell like my room yet. It smells like paint and new carpet. My CD's are all here though, and that makes me feel better. I reach out to the CD rack next to my bed and run my fingers over all the cases. They're the reason I'm here. I smile, and slowly drift off to sleep.

The next morning, I open my eyes, and for a second I can't remember where I am. There's a loud noise, banging and clashing. It stop for a moment, then starts again, more rhythmic than before. It's the sound of drums. My face stretches into a huge grin, as I remember where I am. I spring out of bed and throw the curtains open, seeing all of London sprawling out before me. I stare out of the window at the city for a good fifteen minutes. Now London is my home. What a beautiful place. I head for the door, before remembering that I'm completely naked. Maybe I should start wearing some old shorts or something to bed. It seemed perfectly natural to sleep nude at home, but in a house of three other guys it perhaps wasn't such a great idea. I yanked on some boxers, jeans and a t-shirt, and headed downstairs.

I bump into Harry coming out of the bathroom. HE obviously doesn't have the same issues about protecting his modesty, he's wearing a very small towel, slung low over his hips, and nothing else. It's ridiculous how buff he is for a seventeen year old. His abs look like sections of a chocolate bar, and he has a thin trail of light brown hair going from his belly button down to-…other places. He turns, and sees me standing there, a little breathless, suddenly, and smiles, lighting up his whole face.

"Morning sleepyhead. It's like 11, you know that right?" He laughs, the sound sparkling with genuine happiness, like a child. "Did the drums wake you? My new kit got delivered and I couldn't resist having a go on it, it's ace, you can see it later." He says enthusiastically, eyes shining. I nod, hoping it's the right response, because I haven't really listened to what he said, I was staring at his face, his lips and the way his wet hair stuck out at random angles, like he'd shook it coming out of the shower and nothing else. He grins again, hitting me playfully in the arm, and goes into his room.

I shake my head experimentally, as if I'm trying to rid my ears of water, when Danny appears in the doorway straight ahead of me.

"Hey Dougs, how did you sleep?" He asks conversationally, as we head downstairs together.

"Great, you?" I reply, grinning stupidly. I'm still thinking about Harry's body.

"Yeah, me too. What do you normally have for breakfast? We tried to get a mix of things, we weren't sure what you'd like, we did the same for Harry, turns out he has loads of cut up fruit and protein shakes." Danny shakes his head. "He's too healthy."

That's why Harry's got such a great body. Maybe I should drink protein shakes. I tried it once, when I was fourteen, but I hated the taste.

"I'm easy, just toast usually." I tell him, and he nods thoughtfully.

"Me too. Harry's mental." He assures me as we go into the kitchen together. Tom's already sitting at the table, stirring a cup of coffee and reading the newspaper. Whoa, the dude's like a freaking grown man. He looks up and smiles.

"Hi Dougie, sleep okay?" He asks me, yawning.

"Yeah, thanks, you?" He looks knackered. He shakes his head wryly.

"Harry talks in his sleep. How does NO ONE else hear him? He's nattering away to himself all night!" He moans good naturedly.

"Really? I had no idea. I'm a really heavy sleeper though." I shrug. Secretly, I'm intrigued. I wonder what kind of things Harry says in his sleep?

"Lucky you." He hands me a cup of coffee from the space-age looking machine on the kitchen counter. Danny's whistling to himself, "Rockin' Robin", as he puts toast in the toaster. His hair's especially curly in the mornings, sticking up all over the place.

Harry comes into the kitchen, still wearing nothing but jeans.

"Harry, you've got really nice abs, we get it, is it so hard to wear clothes?" Tom tuts. Harry picks up a banana, and shoves at least half into his mouth.

"All m' clofes r' in th' dryer!" He complains through a mouthful of banana. I'm pretty impressed that he can actually talk at all, considering the way his cheeks are distended.

"You're disgusting, you know that?" Tom says conversationally. Harry grins, showing his mouthful of banana. I laugh at him. Tom shudders, and Harry closes his mouth still smiling, and swallows.

"Yep." He pops his lips on the "P". Danny plonks a plate of toast in front of me.

"Thanks Danny." I tell him, and take a bite.

"Refined carbohydrates, ugh!" Harry says dramatically, scoffing the rest of his banana and tossing it in the bin.

"Shut up Harry. Maybe Dougie likes human food?" Danny says sarcastically, watching Harry unscrewing the lid of a jar of protein shake formula stuff and start spooning some into a sports bottle. Harry made a face. It's kind of cold, and I cross my arms over my chest.

"Are you cold? Sorry, Danny's got issues with normal temperatures in houses, so I just tend to wear hoodies a lot of the time, and Harry never gets cold." Tom says apologetically.

"I'm fine." I tell him politely.

"This IS normal temperature Tom!" Danny protests loudly. Without warning, a pair of muscled arms wrap around me, and I stiffen.

"Oh yeah, and Harry doesn't recognise personal space. You get used to it." Tom told me, gesturing to Harry. I'm not listening. He smells amazing, a warm, woodsy scent I can't quite place, and toothpaste and bananas. He's insanely warm, like a radiator round my cold body, and his hair feels thick and coarse. It's a very pleasant feeling.

"Fucking hell, Harry, at least buy him dinner or something first. I hope you don't do that to girls, that's how you get on the sex offender's register you know." Danny snorts. Harry stays where he is for a moment longer, as if to prove his point, then breaks away, ruffling my hair, and wanders through to the other room. My eyes follow him, his broad shoulders, slim hips, tight bum.

"He's incredible isn't he?" Tom says, shaking his head.

"Yeah." I breathe. "He is."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5-Harry's POV

This week has just been incredible. We've recorded three tracks already, Tom and Danny has written them and Dougie picked up the bass lines in a heartbeat. He's so talented, and he doesn't even know it, you can tell. He wears his little beanie hats over his hair, and he won't quite meet your eyes and he blushes whenever I compliment him. He laughs sort of nervously, but the sound is beautiful, a sort of throaty, coughing laugh, and his eyes crinkle up into little crescent moon shapes.

You notice a lot about a person when you spend all day with them, every day. Like the way Danny always hums when he's cooking or making tea, or ironing, usually Michael Jackson or George Michael. The way Tom always scuffs his shoes on the doormat three times on each shoe, before taking them off and lining them up neatly beside the door. The way every time Dougie goes into the bathroom he folds up all our towels for us on the radiator, so they're warm and dry when we next go to use them.

Today, we've got a day off. Danny's on the phone to his entire family downstairs, I can hear him laughing and joking with his mum and his sister. Tom's watching Star Wars yet again, and Dougie's in his room, I don't know what he's up to. I've just finished a letter to my parents. They abhor the telephone, for reasons unknown, and tend to use it only for official, unavoidable phone calls. I've written them a cordial, informative letter, telling them about what we've been doing with the band, about the house, about my new friends. It contains no personal emotional outpourings or declarations of love and how much I miss home. Reading it makes me a little bit sad. There's no closeness there, like the other guys with their families. Dougie's constantly on the phone to his mum telling her all about how he likes it here, and sometimes putting her on speakerphone. She's warm and lovely, with an Essex accent like Dougie's and a rueful tone. Danny sometimes comes off the phone to his family a little bit red eyed, sniffing hard. Tom talks with his parents and his sister for hours, asking them how they are, what they're doing. He asks them for advice, and really listens when they give it.

The point is, though the relationships the other guys have with their families are different, they are all close, loving relationships. When I left the huge, cold country house I grew up in, my father shook my hand, and told me a little awkwardly that he would miss me. Mother gave me a brief one armed hug and an air kiss, and said that she hoped I'd enjoy my new life in London. Then I left, my brother and sister weren't even there. I just went, and I didn't even feel a twinge of sadness to leave. My band mates are closer to me than my siblings ever were, and I've had more hugs in the last week than I've had in my life. It feels, finally, like a real family.

There's quiet tap at my door, it sounds sort of unsure.

"Come in!" I call out, and Dougie pokes his head round the door, his hair in his eyes.

"Sorry to interrupt you, err, whatever you're doing, but Danny asked me to ask you if you want some lunch." He mumbles.

"Yeah sure, thanks Doug, I was finished here anyway." I tell him, standing up and stuffing the letter into an envelope.

"Who're you writing to? I mean, oh God sorry, that sounded really nosey you don't have to tell me-"He stammers, blushing wildly. It amazes me how he can still be so nervy around us, after a week in our company. It seems to me that he's always a little more jumpy when I'm around, though it might just be me. I wonder what it is that freaks him out.

"Dougs, it's fine, just my parents. They don't like using the phone." I tell him. He kind of frowns, like he's thinking about it hard. When he looks at me again there's something like pity in his eyes. "They're just old. They hate technology." I say, a little bit defensively, and he shrugs and nods. We go downstairs together, and I can smell pasta, probably Tom's doing. Danny can't really cook, beyond toast. His pancakes are awesome though. They're both at the table, and Tom putting pasta into bowls for each of us. He looks up as we come in.

"Hey Harry, what were you doing up there for so long?" Danny says, tearing a piece of garlic bread.

"Writing to my mother and father." I say simply, sitting down beside Tom and pulling my bowl towards me. They all stop, and look at me a little oddly, especially Danny. He looks dumbfounded.

"What?" I'm confused.

"You call them Mother and Father?!" Danny says through a mouthful of pasta. It suddenly hits me that this will seem weird and archaic to them. I blush slightly and dip my head.

"Um, yeah." I mutter, staring at my food.

"Why?" Tom asks confusedly.

"I don't know, I just always called them that. My brother and sister call them that too, I don't know."

"And how come you _write_ to them? Don't they want to talk to you on the phone?" Danny wants to know.

"They just don't like using the phone. They're old." I try for a nonchalant shrug. Dougie's just watching me, still with a pitying look on his face, and it makes me angry. I don't want anyone's pity. I don't want them to know about this, how I had a nanny growing up, even though my mother didn't work. How I used to sit for hours outside my father's study, wishing I could pluck up the courage to go in and watch him write. How I used to hug the huge teddy I'd gotten for my third birthday and wrap its arms around me, pretending it was my mother.

There's a moment of silence round the table, until Dougie changes the subject. I nod at him gratefully, and he smiles back, his eyes doing that crinkling thing again, that I'm so fond of. I don't care about my old family; they never really cared about me, but my new family, the band, means everything.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6-Dougie's POV

It's about 3am now, and I'm lying on my bed. I love living here. The guys are so easy to get along with, the house is amazing, I get to pretty much just play bass all day long. Harry's constantly half-naked. No, stupid brain, I don't like Harry being half-naked. I wish I knew what was up with his family. He writes them LETTERS for fucks sake. And they haven't called once the whole time he's been here, according to Tom and Danny, and that's nearly a month now. My mum's always phoning me, and I talk to my dad and my sister too.

Dad's sort of weird lately though. Sometimes he goes out and doesn't come home at night, Jazzie told me, and Mum won't say why. Jazzie's only 11, but maybe Dad's got another woman? I don't know, I don't believe he'd ever do that to Mum, but they haven't really gotten along all that great since Dad got fired from the police. He's been working as a security guard at the shopping centre for a while now, but he hates it, and money's been tighter than it was before. I think that's why Mum didn't put up more of a fight against me coming to live in London, she can't really afford to keep us all any more, plus I might be making money pretty soon.

I don't know. I don't know anything anymore. What if Dad leaves Mum? What will she and Jazzie do then? I hope I start earning money SOON. We might need it sooner than I thought. Danny's family aren't loaded, and his Dad isn't around any more, but his mum's got an okay job, and so has her new boyfriend. Tom's parents are pretty well off I think, and Harry's family are minted, Danny told me. Harry went to a private boys boarding school and there's a picture on his desk of his family, all standing outside some mansion in Cambridge, where they live. He's got a really posh accent anyway, I bet he's got some aristocratic blood somewhere. He's not the type to brag about it though, he's really modest and humble. Whenever you ask him about it he sort of blushes and looks at you through his lashes and it's so cute. God, where did that come from? Harry's not cute, he's a boy, like me, and he likes girls, like me.

Suddenly, there's a sort of muffled yelp from next door. What the heck? I sit up, and the yelp is followed by a whimpering noise, like an animal in pain. What on earth is Harry up to? I decide to go and check, hesitating outside his door. I knock, to check he's not doing anything, you know, _private_, but there's no answer, so I open the door.

"Harry? Are you okay?" I whisper into the darkness, and as my eyes adjust to the gloom, I can see Harry sitting up in bed, hugging his knees. There's a damp patch on his t-shirt around his neck, and he look's like he's crying.

"D-Dougie!" He gasps, his voice trembling.

"Hey what's wrong mate? Are you sick or something? Should I go and wake the others?" I'm panicking, I've never seen him cry before, I've never even seen him upset. He shakes his head and sniffs hard, dragging his arm across his face.

"I'm fine. It was just a dream." He whispers.

"You don't _look_ fine." I tell him, sitting down on the end of his bed. He's doing that sort of sniffing noise that guys always do whenever they cry, embarrassed for me to see him like this. Tentatively, I reach out, and wrap my arms around him, patting his back, and he leans into my shoulder. I sort of feel like a child hugging an adult, because I'm so scrawny and he's huge, but it's nice all the same. I can feel his heart beating against mine, starting out fast, then slowing down gradually.

"What happened in the dream?" I ask him, and he pulls back, shakes his head and smiles.

"Nothing. It was stupid." He tells me, and I frown at him.

"It's not stupid. Everyone has bad dreams mate."

"It was just…no. It was nothing." I open my mouth to protest, but he starts talking again.

"Sorry for waking you up by the way."

"You didn't, I was already awake, I couldn't sleep." I reassure him.

"How come?"

"I don't know." I lied. "Maybe it was too hot." He nodded, seeming satisfied. I couldn't help noticing the sheer beauty of his face in the dim light, the darkness of his blue eyes against his white skin, and the way they are with spiky little lashes, onto which still cling tiny teardrops. He looks so vulnerable now, all his walls are down. And that's why I don't think about it. I just look at his full pink lips, and I lean closer. There's a question in his eyes, but I close the gap between us, and kiss him, tasting his salty tears, and just pure Harry. My heart feels as though it's going to burst, like it's going to beat right out of my chest. And he kisses me back. He KISSES ME BACK.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7-Harry's POV

Dougie pulls away from me, after what seems like only a second, and touches his lips as though they've been burned on mine. I can still taste him, the taste of salt from my own tears, and his mouth, which tastes very faintly of chocolate. His wide blue eyes are staring at me, a thousand questions hanging in the air, though neither of us want to ask them. I can feel my mouth twitching involuntarily into a wide smile; he looks so shocked that it's comical, and I'm alive with the joy of kissing him, feeling his soft blonde hair through my fingers and the baby softness of his skin.

But as I'm marvelling at how it felt to kiss him, tears well in his eyes, and some spill down his flushed cheeks. I reach up, and cup his face, wiping them away with my thumbs.

"Hey, hey. It's okay." I say very softly.

"A-are we gay, then? Is that how this works? Harry, I just kissed you. And you didn't punch me, and you're smiling, so are we gay now? I'm STRAIGHT. Or I was. But I kissed you. Fuck. What am I going to tell my _parents_?" He whimpers, more tears rolling down his face.

"Shhh. We don't have to think about it like that right now if you don't want to. Not like, gay, or straight or whatever. We don't have to put a label on it. We're just two people, who kissed. And I don't know about you, but I certainly enjoyed it. I guess I'm pretty horrible at it, or you wouldn't be crying." I sigh, pretending to be rueful.

"It's not that. I did enjoy it. I really enjoyed it. But I shouldn't have." He whispers.

"It's not for anyone to say what you should and shouldn't do. But I for one am glad that you enjoyed it. Because I'd quite like to do it again." I lean close to him, holding his gaze. He's the one to close the gap, and we kiss again. It's more slow and sweet this time, less desperate. His lips move against mine tentatively, and he runs his long, graceful fingers through my messy hair.

When we break the kiss again, he's smiling through his tears. I pull him down onto the bed with me, and hold him close. We lie there in silence, for a while, and I stroke his hair absently. Then I start to tell him, tell him everything. How my parents were with me when I was growing up. The way I felt the first time I saw him at his audition, in embarrassing detail. Everything, up to the dream I had earlier, with him, Danny, Tom, my parents and my siblings all dead, at the bottom of the stairs in my house in Cambridge. I start to cry again as I tell him, my voice breaking and faltering. He just listens intently, his eyes wide, trusting, and so beautiful.

When I finish, my voice is hoarse and my eyes sting with more tears than I've cried in years. He kisses me again, and again my heart threatens to break my ribs with the force of its violent beating, then he lays his head on my chest, and begins tracing an intricate pattern beneath my left collarbone.

"Thank you, for telling me that. I want to get to know you, completely. I want to know what your favourite song is, what your first words were, whether or not you like Brussels sprouts, all your hopes and dreams. I want to know you, inside and out. So thanks for a decent head start." He says, looking into my eyes, and I can see the sincerity there. I stare back at him in amazement.

"Do you believe in fate Dougie?" I ask.

"I do now."

"Me too." I hold his head in my hand, stroking down his neck to hug him close to me. "Me too."

When I wake up as light starts streaming through the window, he's still there, fast asleep on my chest. He looks even more beautiful in the light. I find things in his face that I didn't find before, when I was telling myself we were just friends. I didn't find them because I wasn't looking. The way his eyelashes are just slightly lighter on the ends than at their roots. A caramel-coloured birthmark just below his jaw that's shaped like a tiny crescent moon. His smooth, tanned skin. As I'm marvelling at his unfair gorgeousness, he opens his eyes, and I fall in love with them again. Hard.

"Hey, why don't you have any curtains?" He mumbles, his voice thick with sleep. I chuckle softly at the way he squints in the bright light.

"Um, I don't really like the dark." I confess, feeling heat creep up my cheeks. He grins, and sits up, stretching.

"Should have known you were gay." He snickers, leaning back down to press a soft kiss to my lips. All his awkwardness and shyness is gone, replaced by a happy glow like a child on Christmas morning. I raise myself up onto my elbows to kiss him more deeply, when my door swings open, and we spring apart like, well, like guilty lovers.

Tom is standing in the doorway, shock and confusion written all over his face.

"Guys?" he says uncertainly. "What's going on?"

A/N Sorry if this is overly sentimental, I wrote it at like half past midnight whilst listening to very soppy love songs. Please, please, please let me know what you think, you have no idea how excited I get about your reviews, and I do apologise for the cliffhanger! How will Danny and Tom react to Harry and Dougie's fledgling relationship…? Oooh I'm properly getting into this aren't I? ^.^

Thanks for your continuous saying lovely things, guys, I'll try to update soon!


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8-Dougie's POV

My heart is in my mouth. Tom is looking from me to Harry, his eyes wide and confused. My stomach drops through the floor when I glance at Harry and see that he's shirtless, perfect abs exposed, the very same ones I slept on last night. I lick my lips, trying to get some moisture into my mouth, which is suddenly as dry as a bone.

"Tom, i-its not what it looks like…" I stutter, holding my hands out, one to Tom and one to Harry.

"Are you sure? Cause it _looked_ like you two were kissing, and you were in his bed." Tom says doubtfully, one eyebrow raised.

"Look, we were just- I had a dream, last night, and I woke up and I was scared, and Dougie came in here and we just fell asleep, we weren't kissing, it was an accident." Harry fumbles, blushing deeply. I sigh, and shake my head.

"No. Tom, look, I don't want to lie to you. This is a part of who I am now, and if you kick me out of the band, then so be it, but I don't want our friendship based on lies. The bit about Harry's dream was true, I came in here, and I stayed, that bit's all true. But I kissed him. It's all my fault, I kissed Harry. That's what happened." I finish.

Tom still looks confused.

"Hey, no, I kissed him back, okay? And he stayed here last night, but we were just sleeping, we weren't, you know…" Harry trails off, shuffling his feet. Tom has a stunned look on his face, and he hasn't blinked for quite a while.

"Are you going to kick us out?" I say in a small voice, my heart sinking. I've barely been in this band for five minutes, and now I've ruined everything, for Harry too.

"No, of course I'm not" You're the best drummer and bassist we could find, we're not going to kick you out just because you're, y'know…" Tom says, and I breathe again.

"You don't have a problem with it?" Harry says incredulously. Tom shakes his head.

"No, I was just a little bit shocked. I'd be some crap friend to kick you out just because you're you know, gay or bi or whatever. I like you two, and I don't care if you like boys, or girls, or both, we're still friends." He tells us both, looking from one to the other. I turn to beam at Harry, and jump, because he's somehow sneaked over here, and now he's right next to me. He wraps his huge hand round mine, and looks into my eyes, doing that unfair twinkling thing. Then we both simultaneously turn towards Tom and wrap him in a huge hug.

"Okay, guys-strangling me!" He chokes, laughing, and we let go.

"Thanks Tom. I thought you'd hate us. What do you think Danny's going to say?" I say, looking up at Harry, my hand still in his.

"If he's the decent guy I think he is, he'll come around." Tom reassures me.

"Shall we tell him now?" Harry asks me, one hand still on the small of my back. I like that more than is probably sane or normal, because it feels protective and loving. I nod up at him.

"We'll tell him over breakfast." I decide "But you should probably put a shirt on for that." He grins, and grabs for the one hanging over the end of his bed, sniffs it, makes a face, shrugs, and pulls it over his head.

"Happy?" He does a little twirl, camping it up for Tom's benefit, who blushes a little. I think he needs to get used to it. I pretend to consider.

"You'll do." We all head downstairs, and I let Tom go first, so he won't see that Harry's holding my hand. Danny's already in the kitchen when we get there, making tea and humming the "Friends" theme tune.

"Morning guys, sleep well?" He yawns. His hair is especially curly when he's just woken up, and he looks very young, and unsuspecting, so I feel bad for the jolt we're about to give him. I hope he takes it as well as Tom did.

"Yeah, actually, really well." Harry says, a huge grin breaking out across his face like the sun coming out from behind a cloud as he looks at me. Danny clocks this, and his eyebrows draw together in a bewildered expression.

"What are you grinning about?" He wonders aloud.

"Actually, Dan, Harry and I have something to tell you." I say, shooting daggers at Harry. I'd been hoping to break it to him gently, the suggestive smiling wasn't part of the plan.

"We kissed. And it was great." Harry interrupts me, and my eyes pop open. Was the detail necessary?

"Haha guys, very funny." Danny shook his head, taking a bite of toast and rolling his eyes. He stopped midchew when he looked up and saw me biting my lip.

"You are joking, right? You're not…gay?" He looked from me to Harry, his mouth open, still with half chewed toast inside.

"Uh, actually, yes we are." I mumble.

"Wait, really? How di-When?!" Danny sputters incoherently.

"Last night. I had a dream, and Dougie came to check if I was okay, and he kissed me, and I kissed him back. Dougie stayed in my room, and Tom found us this morning." Harry says simply, taking a gulp of orange juice from the carton. Danny looks frozen, he hasn't moved the entire time Harry was talking.

"Danny? Look, we didn't plan any of it. It just sort of, happened, you know?" I plead with him, reaching out to touch his shoulder. When I touch him, he sort of flinches.

"Um, yeah, okay, excuse me, I've got to go and, erm, yeah." He gets up from the table, still with a look of shock on his face, and walks out of the kitchen.

Tom looks from the door to us, apologetically.

"I'm sorry guys, he'll come around, it's just a lot to take in, you know? I'll go and talk to him." He goes too, leaving me and Harry in the kitchen.

"Dougie." Harry's saying softly. I don't notice I'm crying until he wipes away the tears from my cheeks. Then I DO notice, and I sob quietly, until he folds me into a hug, smoothing my hair. "Shhh. It's okay." He cooes, and I want to hit him for being so completely not tactful when we were telling Danny, but at the same time I just want to melt into his arms and have him take care of me, and believe him when he tells me everything is okay.

"He'll hate us Harry. He thought we were straight. _I_ thought we were straight." I whisper, hating myself for concealing my own sexuality, even from myself, for so long. Maybe, when I was younger, I would have been happier if I'd just admitted I liked boys, rather than half heartedly reading porn mags and taking out pretty girls, only to kiss them on the cheek at the end of the night. Harry pulls back, looking into my eyes.

"He won't hate us Dougs. He just needs some time. Anyway, I don't care what Danny thinks, I only care about what you think. Don't cry, please." He begs me, using a corner of his t-shirt to mop my face, but I stop him, and kiss him instead, my lips trembling, but sure, and the kisses are sweet and simple, and for a moment I forget about being gay, and what it might mean for us. I only think about Harry, and the way he tastes. He tastes like a promise of a brighter future.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N-I know I've been alternating between Harry's and Dougie's POV's, but I've decided this part of the story really isn't going to work if I do it in Harry's POV, so Dougs is getting to star for two weeks. I'm sorry I'm so slow to update, but I'm literally drowning in homework and tests and procrastination, so I will be erratic and annoying for a while. PLEASE review, I love reviews, give me constructive criticism, I reeaalllyy want to improve, so please please tell me what you think, and even give me ideas for future chapters if you want, anything's welcome! I may be upping the SUGGESTION of Flones. Veto that if you want, I'm not really going to make Danny and Tom gay though, I mean just the closeness between them, kind of like real life, I've kind of ignored the others a little bit so far. Enough ramblings from me, I apologise. Enjoy! Xxxxxxx

Dougie's POV (Still)

Oh God. Tom's still upstairs with Danny, and I can hear their low voices murmuring, but I can't make anything out. Danny's probably disgusted by us. I mean, we sort of tricked him into thinking we were straight, then sprung that we're both gay and we kissed on him. We've all been living together for like three weeks now, wandering round topless and hugging each other and stuff, and I can totally understand why he's freaking out, but he just doesn't understand. That's just not the way it is with me and Harry, I wasn't looking at Danny and Tom like I look at Harry, I wasn't trying to find one to prey on or something. I just feel different around Harry, and it is JUST him.

"Dougie…do you want me to go and talk to him?" Harry asks for the thousandth time. I shake my head.

"It'll only make it worse. I'll go." I stand up, suddenly filled with purpose.

"You sure? Do you want me to go with you?" He says, looking surprised.

"No. I'll talk to him on his own." I tell him, and he snags my hand in both of his, and squeezes it.

"Okay. Don't get upset, yeah? If he doesn't like it, it's his problem." He growls, a bit of anger flitting across his face. I squeeze back.

"I won't."

I leave the room, and go up the stairs, where Danny and Tom's voices grow louder.

"…Dan?" Tom pleads, and there's silence from Danny. I steel myself, and knock on his bedroom door. Tom opens it, looking stressed out and anxious.

"Hey. Could I talk to Danny for a bit?" I ask him quietly.

"Sure, sure! I'll leave you alone." He says eagerly, gusting out of Danny's room in a rush. I hover by the doorway. Danny's lying flat on his back on his bed, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. I look around the room; it's actually pretty cool. There are posters everywhere, Bruce Springsteen, The Who, The Doors, Nirvana, and a lot of them are immaculately framed.

It's sort of messy, socks balled up on the floor and half-finished cups of tea around, but there's a giant picture collage in the middle of the wall above his bed. There are hundreds of pictures, of his family, his friends in Bolton, even a few recent ones of us. I catch sight of one of the four of us pulling funny faces, Harry's sticking his tongue out, eyes crossed, and I'm next to him, laughing at him. I'm about to look at another picture when I see Danny and Tom doing the same, Danny pulling the face and Tom laughing. I smile at their carefree faces, and the brotherly nature of their relationship. Being the first two, and basically living together for months before me and Harry were even in the band, has made them very close.

"Are you coming in then?" Danny says from the bed, startling me. I take a few steps inside, and hover uncertainly, before he sits up, and moves to one side so I can sit next to him.

"Have you been crying?" He asks me, frowning. I touch my face, and find my eyelids puffy.

"No." My faltering voice gives me away, and he sighs.

"Oh God, Dougie. I'm sorry mate. It's not that you're gay, I'm fine with that, honestly I am, it's just that everything's changing lately, and it was just one more big thing to deal with, y'know?" He runs a hand through his hair, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I don't quite understand the thing about changes though; he's been living with Tom for ages. Is it just me and Harry moving in, or something? No, my gut tells me decisively. This is something more than that.

"What do you mean?" I frown, noting the circles under his eyes, like he hasn't slept properly in a while. How could I have missed them? He sighs.

"Nothing. Sorry, I'm talking crap." He smiles half-heartedly, and ruffles my hair. "I'm sorry I went off on one, I promise I don't hate you because you're gay. I actually kind of think you and Harry are cute together." He tells me.

"It's not nothing," I say, ignoring him, "What's wrong?" He sighs again, and starts fiddling with the strings on his hoodie.

"Mdad'slefmemum." He mumbles to his feet.

"Sorry?"

"My dad's left my mum, okay? And I'm fucking stuck here, and she needs me to be there helping her!" He bursts out, his voice trembling slightly. "It's stupid."

"No it's not! Danny, how come you didn't tell us before? We could've asked Fletch, arranged for you to go home for a week or something." I can't believe he's kept it this quiet, but it's all clicking together for me now. The way he comes off the phone with his family red eyed, and he hides in his room for a while. I feel so sorry for him, he just looks lost. He says nothing.

"What happened?" I ask softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. He gulps, looking as though he's trying very hard not to cry, and takes a deep breath before telling me.

"They were having a lot of arguments, even before I came here, and Dad would just go off to the pub, and sometimes he wouldn't come home. Mum would cry about it, and then he'd be back the next night, and it'd all start again. Then I came here, and I'd talk to both of them on the phone, separately, and my sister, and my Dad would tell me that my mum was doing his head in, and my mum would say she didn't know what to do, and my sister would cry and say that she thinks my dad might have another woman. I didn't believe her, but a couple of weeks ago he just packed all of his stuff and went. He told my mum he didn't love her any more." He finished sadly.

"Oh, Danny. That's awful mate. Why didn't you just tell us?" I ask him, feeling my face crease into a frown as I try to ignore the nagging little voice inside my head that's telling me that I might understand what Danny's going through more than he thinks I do.

"It was just awkward, y'know? I didn't know you and Harry all that well then, and we were so busy with everything, and I don't know, I didn't want you to all just say it wasn't a big deal, because I know loads of people's parents split up and stuff, but it's a big deal to me." He looks so sad as he says it, like a lost kid, all wide, hurt, blue eyes and curly hair. He doesn't look like he's nearly a fully grown adult.

"We wouldn't have mate. It's a hard thing to deal with, and it affects some people more than others. We wouldn't have cared if we were busy. We just care that you're okay." I reassure him.

"Yeah, I know, it was stupid. And I shouldn't have gone off on one about you and Harry, I'm honestly not a homophobe or anything like that, I think you two sort of had chemistry even before. Are you going to tell management?" He asks me, in a trying-to-change-the-subject kind of way.

"Not yet. We're going to keep it quiet, just for a little while, until everyone's used to it, and then tell them. But speaking of telling people stuff, I think you should tell Harry and Tom about your parents. That way, you won't have to pretend that you're totally fine any more. They'll understand, I promise you they won't make fun of you or anything like that. And think you should DEFINITELY tell Harry, because he's sort of got the idea that you're not okay with me and him, and if you like the way your face looks as it is, you need to tell him that's not the case. He's sort of protective." I say, feeling heat creep up my neck. Danny raises a smile from somewhere.

"Aww, Dougs, you're blushing!" I shove him, and he laughs.

"Okay, I'll tell them. Come with me?" He gets up off the bed, tugging at my arm, and I follow him out the door, closing it behind me, and we go downstairs together, nervous, but relieved that things are finally going to get sorted. And me and Harry can be together, I think to myself, and an idiotic grin spreads over my face. I think I'm falling in love with that boy.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10-Harry's POV

A/N- I bet you thought I was never going to write another chapter of this didn't you? My computer broke and I couldn't upload, really really sorry guys! As always, please review! I'll make an extra effort to upload for you over the next few weeks to make up for it, because my exams are over and I'm FREEEEEEE! God, I don't know what to write. Well, you'll find out!

Dougie and I are keeping our distance from one another at the moment, it's Dougie's idea, he doesn't want to make Tom and Danny uncomfortable. I don't really care, but it clearly matters to him, so I'm going along with it. I hate it though. He's sitting on the sofa opposite me now, reading a magazine, but I can tell he's getting tired because his eyelids are heavy and he's blinking a lot. Occasionally, he rubs at his eyes with a balled up fist, and I find it SO cute. He looks like a sleepy little kid, and I'm torn between respect for his wishes that we don't rub our relationship in our bandmates' faces, and desire to carry him up to bed.

"Tired Dougs?" I ask gently.

"Yeah." He stifles a yawn, and gets up. "I'm going to bed, see you in the morning."

"Night."

"Night Dougie."

"Sleep well." I tell him, really, really meaning it. His eyes lock with mine, and we enjoy one of those little moments I love so much, when he looks at me like he sees into my soul. And there is NOTHING I want to hide.

"Night." He says finally, and heads off upstairs. I ache to follow him, but I know I can't. I stare at the tv, trying to block Dougie from my mind for at least a little while. The pictures move on the screen, but I'm not following. I think about Danny instead. After he told us that his parents were splitting up, everything started making much more sense, and I totally forgive him. He was so apologetic about it, and I know he really is just upset about his family. If his red eyes and shaky voice were anything to go by, I'd say he's pretty cut up about it. At the moment, he's texting furiously, his eyebrows drawn together. He looks like he hasn't slept in a while.

It sets me off thinking about my own family. I haven't had a letter in a few weeks. They're probably just busy, but I wish they'd take the time just to write, it's not that hard. I write to _them_, and I've got band duties and practice and stuff. Mother doesn't work, and Father has plenty of time to play golf, apparently, but no time to write to me. It makes me feel rejected, and alone. I know I have Dougie now, which is more than I had before, but I still want at least one reliable grown up in my life that loves me, that I can hug without feeling extremely awkward.

But at least I've got Dougie. Awkward, shy, endlessly bloody cute Dougie, with his adorable laugh and folded up towels and lip biting. I wonder if it's been enough time yet for me to acceptably go to bed without it looking like I'm following Dougie. Fifteen minutes is enough, right? It'll have to be, I decide, and stand up, yawning widely for effect.

"I think I'll go to bed. Night guys." I say, trying to look nonchalant.

"Night Harry."

"Night."

I go upstairs slowly, trying to look tired, until I'm out of sight of the living room. Then, I bound up the remaining few stairs, and into my room. I expect Dougie to be there, so we can talk for a little while before we both go to our own rooms, but he's curled up in my bed, sleeping softly.

I walk over to him quietly, and feel my heart grow hotter at the sight of him looking so damn cute, in a t-shirt that's mine, and far too big for him, and boxers. I lie next to him, head propped up by my arm so I can see his face, and just marvel at him. He looks so peaceful, dreaming about something wonderful, his mouth slack. I wonder if he ever dreams about me. I dream about him, nearly all the time, and then I wake up, and it's like the dream never ended, because he's still perfect, and still mine, and I can't believe how lucky I am. He shifts slightly in his sleep, sighing, and I start, afraid I've woken him, but he doesn't open his eyes, so I relax back into my position. Big spoon, I think to myself, chuckling mentally. He'll hate that. I start stroking his hair, very gently, and murmur in his ear.

"I think I'm in love with you, Dougs. I think I love you."


End file.
